A doctor's reputation is made by the number of eminent men who die under his care.

A doctor's reputation is made by the number of eminent men who die under his care.

Learn'd he was in medic'nal lore,
For by his side a pouch he wore,
Replete with strange read more

Learn'd he was in medic'nal lore,
For by his side a pouch he wore,
Replete with strange hermetic powder
That wounds nine miles point-blank would solder.

Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to read more

Take physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them
And show the heavens more just.

In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
read more

In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
And ran dismayed away.

I do remember an apothecary,
And hereabouts 'a dwells, which late I noted
In tatt'red weeds, with read more

I do remember an apothecary,
And hereabouts 'a dwells, which late I noted
In tatt'red weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples. Meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuffed, and other skins
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses
Were thinly scattered, to make up a show.

(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with read more

(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies
That keep her from her rest.
(Macbeth:) Cure her of that!
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory of a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of the perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
(Doctor:) Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
(Macbeth:) Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it!

There is at bottom only one genuinely scientific treatment for
all diseases, and that is to stimulate the phagocytes.

There is at bottom only one genuinely scientific treatment for
all diseases, and that is to stimulate the phagocytes.

The miserable hath no other medicine but only hope

The miserable hath no other medicine but only hope

I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica could be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would read more

I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica could be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would be all the better for mankind, and all the worse for the fishes.